


Aches and Pains

by Hazel_Athena



Series: Mag7Week [6]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Era, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:04:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12063339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: Vasquez sighs harshly, exhaling through his nose and levelling Faraday with a glare that promises dire retribution if he doesn't watch his stupid mouth. It probably shouldn't make Faraday feel as happy as it does.





	Aches and Pains

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Aftermath" prompt in Mag7Week.

"You need to be more careful."

Faraday looks up from his spot on the bed to find Vasquez scowling at him from the doorway. Tired, sore, and in no mood to appease anybody, he scowls right back. "What I need is a drink, a smoke, and somebody who'll go a few rounds of cards with me. If you're not willin' to engage in some or all of the above then I suggest you keep walkin', maybe even find me someone who is."

Vasquez heeds his words exactly as much as Faraday is expecting him to, which is to say he ignores them completely. Coming all the way into the room, he closes the door behind him with a pointed click and marches over to the bed where he then proceeds to loom above Faraday like the proverbial wrath of god. "I said you need to be more careful."

"Yeah, I heard you the first dozen times, muchacho. I'd like to remind you though that I didn't start the fuckin' bar fight, so what’re you goin' to do about it?" Faraday crosses his arms over his chest now, pointedly refusing to meet Vasquez's gaze. Instead, he glares down at the foot he has propped up in the room's only spare pillow, bare from the knee down and with the swelling of his ankle painfully obvious.

"It's just twisted," he says after a solid minute has passed without Vasquez doing or saying anything. Damn the man and the way he knows how to wait Faraday out. "Give it tonight and maybe part of tomorrow for the swellin' to go down, and we'll be good to get back on the road."

Vasquez snorts, and outside Faraday's field of vision there's a shuffling sound that indicates he's pulling a chair up to the bed. "We're not going anywhere tomorrow, guero. Sam and the others have already decided you need a few days to recuperate."

 _That_ makes Faraday look up. He catches Vasquez's eye, and it takes him only a single glance to assess the situation. "Bullshit, they did," he growls. "You damn well pitched a hissy fit while I wasn't there to tell them otherwise, and up and decided for everyone."

To his credit, Vasquez doesn't try and deny it. "Sam agreed with me, Jack too. It was enough to convince the rest. We're staying here until you can walk without limping."

"Damnit, Vasquez!" Faraday desperately wishes he had something to throw, but the only object he has at hand is the pillow he's resting against. As projectiles go it'd be weak at the best of times, and he'd just have to make Vasquez get it back for him. "You ain't got the right to treat me like an invalid. I'm fuckin' fine!"

"You can't _walk_ , idiota. I don't know how you've come to the conclusion that's _fine_ , but it's not one we share." His eyes blazing, Vasquez leans forward to jab Faraday in the chest. "You wouldn't know fine if it slapped you in the face."

"Somebody's goin' to get slapped if you don't move that damn finger," Faraday warns, "but it won't be me."

Vasquez gives him an unimpressed glower, but nevertheless pulls his hand away. "You need to be more careful," he says, apparently finding solace in the repeated refrain. "You, always whenever I turn around you are in the middle of something you shouldn't be, something that hurts. Why?"

He sounds ... off, off in a way Faraday isn't sure he has words for. Realization is dawning late, but Faraday now has a sneaking suspicion there's more going on here than meets the eye.

It's that inkling of something more at stake that makes him speak calmly, or at least calmly for him, rather than snap like he wants. "Vas, it's a bum ankle. You're probably right that I should stay off it for a bit, but it ain't life threatenin'. I _know_ what life threaten' feels like. This isn't it."

"That's the problem," Vasquez spits. "You know what life threatening feels like, but only after you are already feeling it. You never stop and think about the ways a situation could turn. You just fling yourself into any scenario, no matter the consequences."

Normally his tone would make Faraday respond in kind, would see him snarling and yelling and throwing punches for good measure, but tonight it doesn't. Vasquez's voice may be harsh, but the shuttered look in his eyes and the way his hands keep clenching and unclenching into fists, seemingly without his permission, tell a different story. He's worried, and in the months since Rose Creek, Faraday's learned that doesn't sit well with him, especially if he's the one that caused it.

He snaps his fingers in front of Vasquez's face, drawing the other man's attention as the sharp sound echoes throughout the room. "Hey," he says as Vasquez focuses on him, and not on whatever issues are taking root inside his own head. "It's just a bit of swellin', hombre. You checked it out yourself."

"I know that," Vasquez replies. "What about next time?"

Faraday almost asks him why he's so sure there will be a next time, but contrary to what he sometimes wants people to believe, he's no idiot. There'll be a next time. That's the nature of the beast with the lives they live. However, Vasquez is forgetting something important.

"You were right there, Vas. So was Sam. So was Red. Goodnight and Billy we're just upstairs, and even Jack wasn't that far behind. It wasn't any of us who started the brawl, we just got caught up in it and some jackass landed a lucky kick where I was concerned. Don't think I missed you cold clockin' him a second after."

"That's not -" Vasquez starts to protest, and Faraday quiets him with a raised hand.

"That's not the point," he finishes. "I know, I know, you're miffed because you're worried, and you're worried because you care. It's sweet, if a little obnoxious."

"It is not." Vasquez says darkly, his cheeks tinting ever so slightly.

Faraday, always eminently pleased to get a rise out of his more laid back companion, smirks. "It is sweet," he practically coos, waggling his eyebrows for good measure. "Makes me feel all warm and tingly inside." 

Vasquez scowls at him. "I am going to break your other foot."

Faraday shrugs, unconcerned as he settles back more comfortably against his pillow. "Seems like it'd defeat the purpose, but I can't really stop you as I am."

Vasquez sighs harshly, exhaling through his nose and levelling Faraday with a glare that promises dire retribution if he doesn't watch his stupid mouth. It probably shouldn't make Faraday feel as happy as it does. "I hate you."

"Mhm." Faraday considers curling his hands behind his head to better project an air of studied nonchalance, but a) that might jostle his bad leg, which he is in all honesty trying to avoid, and b) it might actually make Vasquez shoot him, which he is most _definitely_ trying to avoid. He probably wouldn't put a bullet anywhere lethal, but why risk it?

"My foot hurts," he says instead, unleashing his most piteous expression on Vasquez, "and I'm hungry and bored and lonely. If you're not goin' to help with any of that, will you at least go find someone who might?"

Vasquez responds with an expression similar to the one Red had made the time Goody had tricked him into eating Jack's cooking. It says death is imminent unless Faraday chooses his next words very, very carefully.

"I'm kiddin', Vas. Well," Faraday pauses, "I'm not, as it happens, but I didn't mean the part about kickin' you out."

Vasquez's face softens, and, unexpectedly, he shifts forward to stroke his thumb lightly over the foot Faraday's been keeping elevated since he'd managed to hobble his way upstairs. "Is it very painful?" He asks.

Sensing now would be a bad time to lie; Faraday gives him a half-hearted shrug. "It don't tickle, but I've definitely had worse. S'gonna be fine."

"Joshua, if the words 'so far so good' come out of your mouth ..." Vasquez trails off easily enough, but Faraday knows a warning when he hears one.

"Pretty sure I'm done with that line," he says, grinning when Vasquez snorts. "But, hey, I was right then too."

"Only by sure dumb luck," Vasquez insists.

Deciding not to point out that luck is pretty much the only thing he's gotten by on for most of his life, Faraday resettles his bad foot. "So are you goin' to quit stressin' now, or are we goin' to play this game until I'm good to walk again?"

Vasquez's eyes narrow, and Faraday winces as he realizes he's yet again said the wrong thing. "It's not a game, Joshua. It's your life."

"It's neither," Faraday disagrees. "It's a bruised ankle come about through no fault of my own. I don't have a damn death wish, Vas, which I think is the concern you're tryin' and failin' to express."

When Vasquez still looks troubled, Faraday decides enough is enough, and motions to him with one hand. "C'mere, would you? I'll get up if you don't," he threatens when his request goes ignored.

Rolling his eyes, Vasquez moves out of the chair he's occupying, and tentatively settles beside Faraday on the bed. He's perched somewhat precariously, but at least he's there. "Happy?"

"Sure, why not?" Faraday replies, reaching up to trail his fingers over the scruff adorning Vasquez's jaw. "Got some privacy and my fella, what's there to complain about?"

Vasquez stares at him. "Guero, did you steal some of Billy and Goody's smokes when I wasn't watching?"

"If I'd done that I'd be dealin' with more than just a twisted ankle," Faraday points out, and Vasquez shrugs as if to acknowledge the veracity of his statement. 

"You know I'm right," Faraday says smugly, though why he feels smug about the certainty that Billy would sock him one for lifting one of said smokes he couldn't say. He pats the side of Vasquez's face, distracted. 

"I feel like a nap," he decides. "Keep me company until I drift off? You can occupy yourself with one of those books you're still pretendin' not to have shoved in your pack."

Vasquez rolls his eyes yet again, but there's no hiding the fond smile curling his mouth. "Go to sleep, guerito. If you want me to stay, I'll stay."

"And you'll be less grumpy about everythin'?"

Vasquez shrugs, clearly making no promises. 

"Fine," Faraday grumbles, sliding lower on his pillow to try and find a better sleeping position. "Just so long as you stay."


End file.
